Page 34

By the time the sun rose, Aurora’s eyes were swollen and her scratched hand was bloody. Not only had she not left her spot by the cliffs edge, but she’d scarcely blinked or breathed for hours. Where was he? What had happened?

Surely if he’d been caught, she’d have heard something about it by now. What if he hadn’t been caught because he hadn’t made it? She crawled on her belly to the edge of the cliff again and squinted down at the water below. What if he’d drowned? What if he’d fallen? He was so heavy. If he’d just sunk to the bottom, how long would it take for his body to rise again?

A scratchy sob tore out of her throat, and she buried her face in her hands. “Where are you?” she bawled.

Hours passed and Aurora remained paralyzed in place. Anxiety had her stomach in a constant uproar. What if he was alive and needed help? Should she call Phirdo and reveal everything? She could just say he fell, make up something. But what if he was perfectly fine? Telling anyone anything might land him right in jail or worse.

Helpless and hopeless, she sat, scratching until her fingertips were stained red. And then, finally, a chime echoed from the dock stand.

Faster than she knew she was capable of moving, Aurora shot up from the ground. She stared at the blinking stand.

In an instant, she was standing in front of the communicator with no memory of getting there. But her arms were stiff, her fingers numb. Rhaego wouldn’t call her like this. So who was it? And what terrible thing would they tell her? And what if it was nothing and she gave herself away by sobbing through a normal conversation?

Fingers shaking, she activated the call, swallowed and croaked, “Hello?”

“My lady?” Phirdo’s voice echoed from the dock.

There was something wrong—she could hear it in his tone. Tears exploded out of her, but she kept her voice as composed as she could. “Yes.”

“I have some unfortunate news to deliver.”

“What?” Her voice cracked on a swallowed sob, betraying her. Her mind started spinning out, the world buzzing around her.

“I’m so sorry to tell you,” Phirdo continued in a tremulous tone so unlike his normal clipped arrogance. Aurora sank to the ground, pressing her face to the grass to keep her throat-bobbing sobs contained and muffled. “I was notified early this afternoon that our carriage has been vandalized. Is your husband with you?”

Aurora’s head snapped up, mouth falling open. “Our carriage?” she echoed.

“Yes. Authorities are looking into it. I’m sorry someone would want to do something like this to you. I know your husband doesn’t have the most pristine reputation, but—”

“When did this happen?” she interrupted, tired mind working overtime.

“It must have been sometime in the night. Chev was at the dock late and doesn’t remember seeing anything. The amount of damage…it would have been loud. Other stewards were making deliveries this morning, and they would’ve heard if someone was destroying it then.”

Aurora’s gaze slipped to the cliff edge. If Rhaego had gotten to the carriage, only to find it destroyed… Her heart picked up speed.

What if he was trying to make the trip back? Aurora pressed a hand to her tight throat. It was too much. Even if he took another three nights…

How could he possibly do all that again?

“My lady?” Phirdo prompted.

“What?” she breathed.

“Is your husband there? I don’t want to trouble you with this any more than I have to.”

Her blood turned icy. “Uh, no.” She licked her lips, peering to their den as though a good excuse would suddenly make itself known. Her gaze caught on a bundle of herbs she’d hung by the door. “He’s gone to fetch me some flowers in the forest. You can say whatever you need to say to me.”

There was a pregnant pause on the other line, but her tone had been firm, and after a moment, Phirdo explained his planned next steps. Aurora only half listened until something he said made her blink: “I can have the new carriage on its way to you as early as tomorrow for programming.”

She bit her lip, trying not to burst out with a refusal too quickly, as that would be suspicious. Taking a calming breath, she assured him that wasn’t necessary. “No need to come earlier than expected unless we need something. I’ll see you the morning of the luncheon as planned.”

“But…but don’t you want this seen to? Don’t you want to approve the new carriage?” Phirdo argued.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, the heat is in less than a week. We aren’t in the mood for visitors just now.” That would make sense, right? There were probably tons of couples who locked themselves in as the heat grew closer. Auora prayed to the Goddess that was believable.

“Ah… Uh, yes. I’ll leave you both be unless I’m called, then.” A hint of embarrassment rang through the line. Phirdo was easy to rush off the call after that.

Aurora stared into the distance toward Tuva. “Hang in there,” she quietly urged. “Take your time. Don’t climb before you’re ready.”

A seed of hope replanted itself in her gut. The sprout was just large enough to spur her into frenzied action. She buried herself in the kitchen, working up spells.

Despite confusing hunger signals telling her she was both full and starving, she ate some of her creations, focusing on manifestation with each bite.

Time passed in a fog. She floated through the home, always surprised to find herself in a place she hadn’t recalled venturing. Besides the strict adherence to lowering Rhaego’s climbing rope each night and raising it each morning, she existed in a blur.

By the third afternoon, Aurora caught herself falling asleep without realizing it. At the kitchen counter, on the floor of Rhaego’s room, and most often, near the edge of the cliff while clutching her sictiana necklace.

Night had fallen while she’d been asleep outside. No part of her body moved from her fetal position on the grass, but her eyes remained glued unblinkingly to the rope as it bent and disappeared over the cliff’s edge. It twitched often, a result of the wind swishing its swinging end back and forth.

Her heart still leapt each time it moved.

Whether she was ready or not, Phirdo would return in two days. What if Rhaego hadn’t made it back by then? What if…

A single tear slipped out of the corner of her eye. She shut those thoughts down, calling out to her nan for strength once more.

Turning onto her back, she gazed up at the moons. They were nearly full. Both of them.

Rhaego had told her simultaneous full moons occurred five times per year and were highly celebrated in some cities. These events were called Lumina , and Tuvastan heat coincided with them twice per year. In two nights, the heat would strike during the year’s second Lumina.

If she weren’t currently spinning out, Aurora would marvel at that. The connection Tuvastan bodies had to the moon cycles was astonishing.

The wind made the rope creak, and she gritted her teeth against the sound.

Rhaego was ardently against being near her during the heat, but what would happen now? Maybe they could try to escape again during the heat. Every fertile Tuvastan would be distracted. It seemed like the perfect opportunity. But he couldn’t make this trip a third time, could he?

Aurora swallowed back the lump in her throat. Rhaego was the strongest man she’d ever met, but he was still mortal. The rope creaked again, then again. Her eyes widened. She listened, not daring to roll over and hope quite yet.

But the sounds had an unmistakable pattern to them. Like one hand lifting over the other again and again. Like someone was climbing.

Shooting to her hands and knees, Aurora crawled toward the ledge, eyes scarcely believing the steady rhythm of the rope being tugged at equal intervals. Her eyes blurred with excited tears, so she dropped to her belly and squirmed the last foot to ensure she didn’t accidentally misjudge the edge and topple over.

When she finally peeked over the side of the cliff, the sight before her had happy sobs pouring out of her. Red horns, dim but unmistakable in the bright light of two nearly full moons greeted her. “Rhaego!” she cried.

His movements stopped, and his eyes met hers. Her breath rushed from her lungs, panic setting in. From what she could see, he was in no fit state to be climbing anything . The fabric at his shoulders was torn, scrapes marred his drawn face, and his body trembled as he climbed.

She had no idea how he’d made it up this far. Sealing her lips, she remained stiff and unmoving, not wanting to cause any distractions.

He rose slowly and silently, arms shaking and face wrinkled in pain. The closer he got, the more her heart hammered against her ribcage. Bile rose to her throat when his grip failed him and he slipped down the rope a foot.

Torturous minutes or hours later—she couldn’t tell which—his bloodied, ragged-clawed hand sprawled across the grass. Though she was sure she wasn’t helping much, Aurora clutched handfuls of his clothing and pulled with all her might until he slumped fully onto the grass, breaths fast and thin.

“Are you okay?” she croaked through a reedy voice. Other streaks of blood glistened in the moonlight though it was hard to distinguish from his red skin.

He didn’t speak—she didn’t know if he could just then. His lids kept shuttering his eyes as if he were passing in and out of consciousness.

“Let’s get you inside.” Somehow she helped him stumble into the den—rather, he stumbled and she tried her best to support him and keep from collapsing under his weight.

His clothing was ripped everywhere, not just at his shoulder, as though he’d been attacked by something. Pink spots of blood and water dripped off him from unseen wounds, and his skin was cold. That worried her the most. Rhaego was never cold. His fever ensured it.

On instinct, she guided him to her room, and he allowed it. She peered up at his vacant expression. How aware was he?

“Okay, handsome. Can you stand? We need to get these wet clothes off you.”

Rhaego tried to remain upright but listed back and forth.

Aurora moved fast, tugging the scraps of Rhaego’s wet clothes off him. She dutifully averted her gaze as he fell back onto the bed and she dragged his pants off his frozen legs. Sprinting to the bathroom, she gathered armfuls of towels, then patted him dry, whispering and lightly jostling him to keep him awake long enough to help get under the covers.

“What happened to you?” she said under her breath as she helped him scoot upward until she could pull piles of blankets over him.

His gaze met hers, and he seemed to really see her for the first time. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice rasping and broken as though he’d swallowed a gallon of acid. “I failed us.”

She tried to argue, tried to assure him that he’d done all he could do and this wasn’t his fault. But his eyes had slipped closed.

Blooms of blood seeped into her sheets where his cuts met the fabric. Aurora took note of each area of concern while holding back tears. She’d had nothing to do but think for the last few days, and she was sure she’d arrived at the same conclusions he had about who’d betrayed them.

Anger and bitterness, the likes of which she wasn’t used to feeling, overtook her whenever she thought about Ishara. She was ill, but that was no excuse. She’d been sane enough to organize the trashing of their carriage in such a way that Rhaego wouldn’t be directly implicated, but she’d put him in unnecessary danger. She’d betrayed his trust. Rhaego had so much love to give and so much hurt festering inside him already.

The situation had foul thoughts erupting in Aurora’s mind, but she schooled her features. If he woke, she didn’t want him to be greeted by someone angry and bitter. He didn’t need negativity right now. Rhaego needed assurance and affection. He needed to know that although their first shot at escape had failed, her feelings for him were no different. If anything, he’d only risen in her regard. He was stronger than she knew in both body and spirit, and she’d make sure he understood that as soon as he was coherent again.

Checking his pulse and ensuring his body temperature was slowly but surely rising, Aurora gathered more supplies from the kitchen and Rhaego’s room. Little bites covered his flesh like a school of piranha had made a snack out of him.

She spent the night tending to his wounds with the little handheld healer and cleaning him up with warm damp cloths and cleansing foam. In moments of bleary wakefulness, she was able to get him to shift and heal the larger bites covering his back, then laid towels under him so he didn’t have to sleep on bloodstained sheets.

When she’d done all she could, Aurora curled up at his side and laid her palm over his heart. The steady beat lulled her, as did his rapidly-warming skin. Though he was nearly comatose, it seemed his horn glands still worked. She burrowed against him more firmly, wanting to surround herself in his delicious musk.

For the first time in days, they both slept.